Being Harry Potter XCIV
by Keldin
Summary: What will Harry find in *this* world? Story #2 in the Extreme Makeover, World Edition series.
1. A New Arrival

Description/Summary: Harry Potter's adventures in the fight against Voldemort. A sort-of meta-fanfic.

Spoilers: None as far as I know.

Character Bashing: None so far. No guarantees that won't change.

Feedback/C&C: Please! Always welcome!

Archiving: If you want to archive this, please contact me first.

Author's Note: This is the result of reading too much fanfiction!

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to their respective owners, including Ms Rowling and the relevant movie companies. Used without permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of the characters.

'Huh,' Harry thought to himself. 'This one is a new start. Never popped in in the middle of an wet dream before.'

It had all started, unsurprisingly, with Tom Riddle, or, as he called himself, 'Lord Voldemort.' He and Harry had been dueling. Wait. No. Nothing so formal as that. Fighting. Yes, that was a better word. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna had come to the Department of Mysteries because of a vision that Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, was being tortured there. There was a whole lot more involved, but that was a story for a different time. All of the others were out, either injured or tending to those who were. It was just Harry now.

Voldemort cast a spell that Harry didn't recognize. Hermione possibly would have, but she wasn't available. Harry didn't dodge fast enough, and the ethereal green light impacted his body hard, throwing him to the ground.

Harry found himself having what the Americans would call an 'out-of-body experience.' He opened his eyes, and saw his own body, unmoving, on the ground below him. A second spell by the Dark Lord raised a great wind, or, at least, what felt like one - since it didn't seem to be ruffling the hair on his body. It did, however, manage to push Harry's spirit form (for lack of a better phrase) through the tattered black curtain that Hermione had thought so dangerous earlier. The last thing he heard was Voldemort's derisively-laughing voice as he said, "Let's see what Dumbledore does when I control the body of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Since then, Harry's spirit (again, for lack of a better word) had found itself leaping from lifetime to lifetime, inhabiting his own body (i.e. Harry Potter) over and over and over again. He would settle in and open his body's eyes, and then begin the process of figuring out what was wrong in **this** version of himself. Because that always seemed to be the case: that there was something wrong that needed to be made right once again.

Sometimes it was obvious what was wrong, but that was pretty rare. That world where Voldemort had been killed and replaced by his youngest protégé - was one. No matter what she might have called herself, Hermione Granger was NOT Dark Lord - or Dark Lady - material!

But this was, as Harry thought, a new beginning. Most often, Harry would 'pop in' either shortly before or shortly after his eleventh birthday, before starting at Hogwarts. The second most common 'pop in' point was right before the final fight with Voldemort, and didn't **that** usually lead to a lot of scrambling.

But this was the first time he'd actually popped in while the Harry Potter of the time was in the midst of an erotic dream. So there were still some surprises for him. That was good to know, at least.

Fortunately, it also gave him a good idea 'when' he was. The only details of the image of his 'partner' in the dream that he could see in the darkness were silvery-blonde hair and even white teeth, and that meant one person: Fleur Delacour. Even if her Veela charms had little effect on Harry, she was still a very attractive girl. He supposed he was probably not the only person who dreamed about her on occasion.

In any case, since he hadn't met Fleur until the Goblet of Fire had spit out both of their names, it meant that he was after that. When, exactly, after that, was anyone's guess.

Harry lifted his head and turned onto his side, reaching for the edge of his bed for his glasses. "I'm at Hogwarts," he thought to himself. It was obvious: the bed he had at Hogwarts and the ones he had at the Dursley's, Potter Manor, and his own home were all different, so it was easy to tell. It also didn't hurt that he could hear Ron's snoring from across the room.

He slid his glasses onto his face and blinked a few times to clear his eyes, then went to his dresser for some clothes. "Gah," he thought. "Dudley's hand-me-downs. Why is it that so many of me never think to actually spend some of that money at Gringotts for clothes?" But it wasn't like he had much choice. Pulling on a set of clothes that did little but dwarf him, Harry gathered up his wand, cloak, broom, and the Marauders' Map. It didn't take long to exit the room, and he was careful to step over the trick board that always groaned: Neville was a light sleeper.

Outside the room, Harry unfolded the map and quietly intoned, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," activating the map.

'Huh,' he thought to himself. 'In default mode, eh? Well, we can change that.' He pointed his wand to the top of the map, and said, just as quietly, "Pranks are a Marauders' best friend." It didn't take long to change what was displayed on the preferences menu that came up, allowing Harry to see where the castle's ghosts were as well as the others it normally displayed.

"Good. She's not there," he thought. Harry cast a 'reducio' on his broom and put it in his pocket, throwing the cloak over his head and shoulders.

With the cloak over him and carefully following the Map, it didn't take long for Harry to get to girl's bathroom on the second floor. He cancelled the reducing charm on his broom, hissed the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets open, and flew down into it. He stayed on his broom on the off-chance that the basilisk down here wasn't dead yet: that'd happened once, a 'world' where the whole Chamber of Secrets bit hadn't happened before he'd 'arrived'.

The interior door to the Chamber was open, which was a good indicator. Entering, he frowned. He always forgot how low the lighting was in this place. Still, it was something he could deal with later. He flew towards the opposite end, to the place where Ginny Weasley's body had originally lain on the ground, coming face-to-face with the dead body of the basilisk. Once again, he'd forgotten how big the thing actually was. And it was in the way. A banishing charm did absolutely nothing for something that big, so Harry used a mobilicorpus to move the body out of the way. Even so, it was difficult to do - the dead weight of the basilisk was nothing to sneeze at.

'Finally, the last part,' Harry thought, absently conjuring a lantern atop a pole (essentially, a street-light), two regular-sized comfortable chairs set facing one another, and another chair about half the size of the first two.

He sat down on one of the regular-sized chairs, and took a breath. This could be bad, but it was something he had to do.

"Dobby!"

The cracking sound of apparition preceded the appearance of the three-foot-tall house elf. "Harry Potter has called for Dobby? What can Dobby hel..." And then the house elf stopped, squinting his tennis-ball-sized eyes. "Who are you and what have you done to Harry Potter sir?!"


	2. Meeting in the Basement

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to their respective owners, including Ms Rowling and the relevant movie companies. Used without permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of the characters.

Author's Note the First: I just thought I'd let people know before they got too involved. This is going to be a Super!Harry fic, so, if you don't like those, I give fair warning. Also, what I meant by this being a meta-fic is that I intend to use pretty much **every** Harry Potter fanfic stereotype I can think of in this 'fic. Seven-part compartments with full apartments, libraries, and potion labs, that you can cast spells in without worrying about underage magic restrictions? Yep, sure, you betcha. Ron/Ginny/Molly being blood purists and/or using Amortentia on Hermione/Harry/Arthur? Uh-huh.

I'm not saying that any of these things will happen in this particular 'episode' (though some probably will). They could be references to other 'worlds' where they happened, or the equivalent. It's entirely possible that I am not familiar with some stereotypes - I may read a lot of fanfiction, but there's (a lot) more that I haven't read. **Please** comment/review and make suggestions for things you might like to see me try and include in the story. Heck, give me URLs to fanfics that feature them! I love all kinds of feedback, and feedback that helps me write more is always particularly appreciated.

Harry didn't panic. This, after all, happened on something like a third of the 'worlds' he ended up in. Most wizards - like Lucius Malfoy - completely ignored the actual abilities of house-elves, treating them as slaves. But the thing was, house-elves could do pretty much anything that a normal wizard could do, and **all** of them could do it. Less than 1% of all human beings had the power to become wizards, but every single house-elf was a magical creature. There were no squib or muggle house-elves, or, at least, none had ever been discovered by man. Most of the time, they didn't do the kinds of things wizards did, but that was more because of their personalities than lack of ability. A house-elf actually attacking someone was almost unheard of.

Unless the 'victim' was attacking someone they cared about. But there were so few people that elves actually truly cared for, mostly because of how they were treated, that it was almost never seen.

That wasn't the case with this house-elf. Dobby considered Harry Potter responsible for freeing him from the nastiness that was Malfoy Manor and its occupants. He pretty much considered Harry his own personal hero. And now he knew that this wasn't HIS Harry.

"STOP!" Harry shouted, his tone firm.

Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately in this case), Dobby had also been subject to the Malfoys for so long that a sharply-voiced 'command' like that forced him to hesitate (and, usually, begin punishing himself). Harry hated taking advantage of that, but that hesitation is all he needed.

"Sorry, Dobby," Harry apologized. "Please, look again. You'll see that it's all me in here. And, I promise to explain what's happening too. I even created a chair for you to sit in, if you look behind you." Which he did. Harry watched Dobby's ears as the house-elf turned back - it was the best way to tell how the magical creature was going to react. And he did react predictably, his eyes beginning to well with tears at the 'consideration' Harry Potter was showing him. Never mind that it was basic human decency, in Harry's opinion.

"But before I can tell you what's happening, I need a favor or two. Is that all right with you? It won't be anything too hard, I promise," Harry said, attempting to prevent a full-on crying brawl from the somewhat-strange house-elf.

When Dobby nodded, Harry asked, "Do you know where we are?"

Dobby looked around and shook his head, "We is not in Hogwarts. Where is we, Harry Potter sir?"

And **that** answered a question that Harry had wanted to know. He grinned ferally for a moment. "This is the Chamber of Secrets, far below Hogwarts itself. If you look over there, that's the basilisk. It's dead now, don't worry, but one of the things that I wanted to ask you to do was help me be sure there aren't any others. Could you go and get me one of Hagrid's roosters and bring it back?"

Putting words to actions, Dobby popped out, and then back in a few moments later. Harry smiled approvingly, and the house-elf almost preened. Really, it wasn't so hard to make house-elves happy. Why did so many people have trouble with it?

"Go ahead and put it down," he remarked. That is going to be one hell of a confused rooster this coming morning, he thought to himself. Harry tapped the 'street light' with his wand, dousing it, and then lifted it, "LUMOS SOLOR!"

A (very) small star ignited at the top of the room, throwing everything into relief. And, of course, triggering the rooster's natural reaction to being startled awake: crowing.

There were no other responses - sounds or otherwise - even after Harry applied a Sonorus to the rooster, and that was a good thing. No little baby basilisks that needed killing. With a 'quietus,' a 'nox', and another tap on the 'street light,' conditions were restored to the way they were before. "Excellent," Harry said. "Okay, just one more thing, Dobby. You can take others with you when you apparate inside Hogwarts, right?"

It wasn't really a question, since he knew the answer: Dobby could take others with him when he apparated - he'd proven that many 'worlds' over - and he could apparate within Hogwarts, as any house-elf could. Dobby's answering nod was only waited for out of politeness.

"Thank you, Dobby. Could you please return the rooster to where you got it, and then pop to the Gryffindor girl's dorm, for the same year as I am," he began. "You remember Hermione Granger, right? She was the one who was happy you were taking pay, remember?" He crossed his fingers that things had happened here like they did most 'worlds.' Otherwise, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do, and he'd have to do it more than once, which is what he wanted to avoid.

Luckily, Dobby nodded, and Harry went on. "Could you go and get her for me, then bring her here? That's who the other chair is for. Then I'll tell you both what's going on. Okay?"

Dobby smiled at that, his eyes still a little watery at having his own chair waiting for him, and popped out.

* * * *

The crack/pop of house-elf apparition sounded out in the Gryffindor 4th Year Girl's Dorm, right next to Hermione Granger's bed, waking the girl with a start. Reaching for her wand, Hermione whispered a quiet 'LUMOS' to create a weak light, and stifled a shriek when the large eyes of the ex-Malfoy house-elf greeted her.

"Harry Potter needs his Grangy," Dobby whispered, though it sounded incredibly loud to Hermione.

"Okay," she whispered back, figuring that if Harry was calling for her in the middle of the night, it was probably important. She got up and pulled on a dressing robe and slippers, stifling a second shriek when Dobby took her hand.

The sound of apparition sounded one more time. Several moments later, the sound of female giggling also was heard... though not by Hermione, who was no longer there.

* * * *

The second crack of apparition made Harry look up from the Marauder's Map with a smile, once which turned ever-so-slightly lascivious. He let out a low wolf-whistle. "**Very** nice, Hermione," he said, looking up and down her body through the only halfway-closed robe. Hermione was wearing the bottoms to a set of normal pajamas (even if they had the images of police boxesss on them), but her top was a simple Contessa di Roma nightshirt loosely draped over her. It didn't really show anything, especially with the additional robe, but it was attractive. Especially in that 'just got out of bed' look. Which was appropriate, seeing as she HAD just gotten out of bed.

Hermione looked down at herself and pulled her robe shut. This time she DID shriek, "Harry!"

"That's my name. Don't wear it out," Harry responded.

"Haaaaaaaa-rrrry....," Hermione said, threateningly, raising her wand.

"Relax," Harry said, casually using his own wand to transfigure Hermione's clothes into slacks, sneakers and a T-shirt (and a jacket, since it was a little cold down here). "It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before."

Hermione's new shirt read (not that she'd looked at it just yet): "GRYFFINDORS DO IT BRAVELY" And then, in much smaller letters underneath it: "(in bed)."

"HARRY!" Her face began turning a bright red, though whether it was in embarrassment or anger was anyone's guess.

Harry had to suppress a laugh. Tormenting Hermione was always fun. "Oh, come on. Have a seat." He nodded at the big chair behind her. "I have something I need to talk with you about."

Finally, Hermione did just that, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're acting so strange, Harry," she remarked. It had completely skipped her notice that Harry had transfigured her clothing around her - and the clothing fit appropriately. While transfiguring clothing wasn't hard, doing it around a living body was more difficult, and making the clothing fit the way they did, was significantly moreso.

Harry grinned at that, and then looked over at Dobby. "Why don't you take a seat too, Dobby? Then I'll explain a bit." He paused for a moment. "Or, if I'm right, it'll be Hermione that explains."

The named young woman growled, though anyone who knew her could tell that she was already thinking about it. Once Dobby had settled, Harry leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his legs, and looked at Hermione. "In all the time that you've studied extra things, did you ever study physics?"

Hermione blinked at what seemed to her to be a non-sequitur. "Of course I did," she responded.

"How advanced?"

"I touched on most of the advanced theories, at the very least. Why?"

Harry just sat back and smiled. It was always so brill watching Hermione think... even when she was working her way to becoming a Dark Lady. That was one of the delights of this random life of his.

The silence stretched, Hermione trying to figure out what Advanced Physics had to do with anything. Well, other than having to do with anything. She'd figure it out.

"I did have Dobby wake you in the middle of the night, so you're lacking sleep," Harry said. "Want a hint?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste, but nodded. It didn't help that Dobby was beginning to get antsy as well.

"Quantum theory," Harry said, and refocused on Hermione. If he knew her, she'd get it any second.

_What does quantum theory have to do.... oh!_ Hermione started putting things together. Harry's confidence, his (finally) noticing that she was female, that crack about her not having anything he hadn't seen before - even if that DID make her blush - and how easily he'd done that transfiguration.

"Y... Y... You're not my Harry, are you?"

"Calling me 'my Harry' is a good sign," Harry replied, with a grin. Hermione, for her part, blushed again, while Harry turned to explain to Dobby. "Quantum theory basically says that reality is created by observation, and... you know what, it's not important, especially since I have no way of knowing it's the truth. I just wanted to give Hermione a frame of reference. Basically, the answer to your question, Hermione, is that you are partially correct. I **am** your Harry. This is his body, his soul, his magical core. I have just been added on top of it."

He looked from Hermione back to Dobby, and tried to frame it in a reference the house-elf would understand. "Think of it this way. If your Harry Potter was one of the tables in the Great Hall, wooden and pock-marked with the flow of time, then I - the addition - am like a pristine tablecloth wrapped around the top of the table. Just like the top of the table looks different under a tablecloth, I look different in your magical sight. Do you understand?"

And it was clear that Dobby did. As Harry had explained, his expression of worry had lessened more and more. Harry continued, "I'm not here to hurt Harry, because hurting him only hurts me." Not to mention that he knew exactly what might happen if he tried to hurt himself. Not all of his world-shifting had gone well, particularly at the beginning. "The problem is that, when I first 'arrive,' my mind is separate from Harry's. I will eventually be able to integrate this Harry's memories, but it takes time to go through and sort..." He looked down at himself. "Fourteen or fifteen years of memories and experiences."

"And that, actually, is why I asked Dobby to bring you here, Hermione," he said, startling the latter with the shift in conversation. "I need you to tell me about me, as it were. There have been times when I've needed to act before I could finish the integration. Can you help?"

Hermione's blush had receded to the point where it was merely a slight flush, mostly visible on her neck above the T-shirt and at the tips of her ears. "I'll certainly try, of course."

Harry smiled, "Thanks. I really do appreciate it." He paused. "First thing, can you tell me what today's date is?" With a swish of his wand, the current time - 01:32am - was displayed.

"March 3rd," Hermione replied promptly. She glanced at the floating time. "Or the 4th, I suppose."

Harry asked, "What year?"

Hermione only blinked twice before responding. "1995." If nothing else, that helped drive it in that he was serious.

It was Harry's turn to squint as he thought. "4th year. A week after the second task of the Tri-wizard Tournament? Saturday?"

Hermione just nodded, and Harry sat back, taking a breath. He leaned his head back and then looked at Hermione, "They did the underwater one, right? Go off and rescue your cherished person? And you were my cherished person?"

Hermione continued to nod, until he got to the last part, where she shook her head. "No, I was Viktor's." There was the blush again.

But Harry didn't seem surprised. "Then they took Ron for me, right? I'm guessing that we three are friends, right? Because, otherwise, you probably wouldn't have come at my call at this time of morning."

Hermione nodded, ducking her head. That got a raised eyebrow from Harry, but he didn't say anything about that. Instead he went on. "When I was underwater, Fleur didn't make it, and I rescued little Gabby, didn't I?"

"I didn't get the impression she liked being called that, but yes," Hermione said, looking up. Seeing Harry's lips twitching, she accused, "But you know that, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "In one world I was in, Fleur and Gabrielle were, basically, my foster siblings. We - that is, you and I - had transferred to Beauxbatons after second year, deciding Hogwarts was too dangerous, and I was one of the few males that wasn't overly affected by Veela charms, so I was one of the few males that they could actually talk to. Is that how it is here?"

Hermione hesitated, and it was clear she didn't know how to answer that. She'd been taught not to say bad things about people when you were talking about them. But the delay was enough, and a rueful look crossed Harry's face, and he asked, "Fleur's being a vindictive bitch, isn't she?"

Hermione grimaced, shrugged, and then nodded. "But I don't think it was her fault, really." It sounded weak.

"It's not, really," Harry said, agreeing. "She's under a lot of pressure. Veela come into their maturity sooner than humans do. Imagine walking into school as an eleven-year-old and having every fourth year or higher male - including some teachers - watching your every move, with what's on their mind very clear. With the girls, those who weren't attracted to her hate her. And that was before she started being attracted to the opposite gender. Even when that happened, the Veela aura makes men stupid." He grins, "Did Ron blurt out an attempt to ask her to the Yule Ball?"

Hermione giggled and nodded. "He was completely mortified. She treated him like he was a little boy." Covering her mouth, she added. "I shouldn't laugh, but the expression on his face was absolutely priceless."

"And that's just an example, yeah," Harry said, smiling a hint nostalgically. "Pretty much every male except me and..." He paused, looked nervously at Hermione for a moment, and started again. "Pretty much every male treats her that way, and it frustrates her. She turns that frustration into drive to succeed, and uses that attitude of hers to turn people away from her. Less chance for her to get hurt that way."

With a sigh, he sat back. "I can't really tell you everything, Hermione. Unless... have you studied occlumency?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What's occlumency?" Which pretty much answered the question.

"Closing your mind against outside magical reading and influencing," Harry said, with a sigh. "Professors Dumbledore and Snape, at the very least, are Master Legilimens. They can read - and influence - your mind, particularly if you meet their eyes. Voldemort can too, at least with me he can, to an extent. I'll tell you what I can, and I can teach you, but I'm going to have to keep much to myself at this point. I have about four months before the third task. I can get a lot done in that period, but it's going to take practically all of it to do so, so I need to get started."

Then he smiled, thoughtfully. "So, how about it, Hermione? Want to go on an adventure with me that will probably not have much in the way of danger in it? Give me a chance to reconnect with one of my best friends? Please?"

Maybe it was just the late hour and lack of sleep, but Hermione found Harry's tone just too winsome to refuse. "Okay."

"Brilliant!" Harry said, bouncing up out of his seat to reach over and pull Hermione out of hers, a huge smile on his face. "Can you meet me outside the second floor girl's bathroom at 8:00, then? We'll go from there?"

Hermione couldn't NOT answer that smile with one her own, so she did, as she nodded.

"Great!" Harry turned to Dobby, and asked, "Can you take Hermione back to her dorm?" He paused. "Actually, before that... Dobby, how is Winky doing?"

Dobby's ears flopped down in the expression of sadness. "Winky is still very sad, Harry Potters sir. She drinks until she sleeps, and she cries for her Master. Nothing makes her happy."

Harry grimaced. "Yes, I was afraid of that." He nodded. "All right then. After you take Hermione back to her dorm, would you get an anti-drunkenness potion from Madam Pomfrey and then bring Winky here? I want to talk to her, and I need her to be sensible enough to understand me."

"Wait," Hermione said. "What are you going to talk to her about, Harry?"

"Tomorrow," Harry replied. "Go, sleep now. We'll talk later. Don't worry about me - when I first arrive, I usually have a lot of energy. I'll crash in a few hours and meet you at 8:00." He planted a kiss right on Hermione's cheek, at least halfway because he wanted her to blush again (which she did). "Good night. Sleep tight. And thank you."

As he stepped away, he leveled his wand and finite'd the transfiguration he'd done on Hermione's clothing, taking another mock-leer before letting them go with the loud crack of apparition. Once Dobby and Hermione were gone, Harry reduced the size of Hermione's chair and moved it next to the other elf-sized chair. He settled down in his own to wait for the two elves to come back.


	3. A Ghost of a Chance

As 8:00 rolled around, Hermione made her way towards the girl's bathroom on the second floor. She'd stopped for breakfast in the Great Hall, but hadn't seen Harry there, and Ron had told her that he wasn't in their room either. At least, he did after he complained about why she was waking him so early on a Saturday. So, she just did what she said she was going to do, and showed up there on time. Maybe he was just running late.

Hermione stopped outside the door and waited there. At exactly the time selected, Harry popped up behind her, eliciting a shrill scream when he scared her.

"Of course you couldn't see me," he said, before she could even ask. "I know what people would say if they saw me hanging around outside a girl's bathroom. Especially as high-profile as I apparently am at the moment." He doffed his Invisibility Cloak and offered Hermione his arm. "Shall we, m'lady?"

That, at least, got a giggle out of Hermione. Granted, maybe it was formed - at least a bit - out of lack of sleep, but it was there. "We shall," she said, taking Harry's arm and pushing open the door.

Inside, the two were immediately questioned: "Who's there?" The ghost of the teenage girl floated out of her stall to look around, and frumped morosely. "Oh, it's you. Here to just get more answers again?" She looked over at Hermione, glaring when she saw her arm linked with Harry's

"Myrtle, be nice," Harry said. "Actually, we're here for a couple of reasons, but one of them is, indeed, to see you."

Hermione blinked, and mouthed to herself, 'We are?' Harry, however, wasn't looking at her.

"You are?" Myrtle said, her face blushing a light silver. "Noone ever comes to see me."

"I know, and I'm sorry for that. I did promise, didn't I? And I wanted to thank you for the help. You know, under the lake? I would never have found them if it wasn't for you. Or even the clue in the first place."

The silvered blush was a bit more enhanced now, and Myrtle ducked her head abashedly. Harry went on, though. "Actually, though, I was hoping I might be able to help you, now."

"Help me?" Now she was curious, and the look on her face was easy to recognize: modern-day Ravenclaws had it too, when faced with a problem or something to study. Well, Ravenclaws and Hermione Granger. "Help me how?"

"Well, let me answer that question with a question." Like _that_ had never happened to a Ravenclaw before. "Please don't take this the wrong way, because I honestly want to know the answer, but why are you still here?"

For several long moments, it looked like Moaning Myrtle was about to live up to her name, but her curiosity won out over her normal depressed state. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... well, most wizards say that ghosts stay around because either they're afraid to die, or they feel like they have unfinished business that they need to attend to. I know you're not afraid to die, because, like you told us, you never saw it coming. I also know you haunted Olive Hornby to get back at her for making fun of you. And... Myrtle, it's been fifty years since you died. Don't you **want** to stop feeling all this pain and go on to be with your family and those who love you? Will you tell me what's keeping you here?"

Hermione, for her part, was watching the conversation bounce back and forth, following it like she was following a tennis match. Her face **had** softened as Harry explained why he had been looking for Myrtle, and now she was thinking about it too.

Myrtle, startling them both, burst into tears. But these weren't the moaning tears that she was known for, the wailing rivers of water that came at her command. These were the tears of a woman in pain. "Noone... noone ever asked me before. Of course I want to go! I've wanted to go for so long! It's not like I planned being a ghost, you know. But I can't go, not until I know why I died and who killed me. And I was the only one here when I died, so noone else knows! I'm stuck here forever!"

Harry slapped his forehead, and muttered to himself, "Damn you, old man." Then, louder, he said. "I know why you died and who killed you, Myrtle. I thought Professor Dumbledore would have told you by now. Damn it!"

Myrtle's tears cut off like - pun not intended - one had shut off a faucet. "What? How? Why?"

Harry sighed. "I'll tell you what. Let me... let us show you, and, if it's enough, we'll be there to see you off. All right?"

Myrtle nodded, not trusting her voice. Harry extracted his reduced broom from his pocket and cancelled the reduction spell. "Just follow us, okay, Myrtle?" And she nodded again.

Harry walked over to the sink and hissed it open, setting the broom for mounting, gesturing for Hermione to join him. Hermione, on the other hand, just looked confused. She asked, as she walked over, "Are you sure you want to fly that in the halls? Especially with two of us on it?"

Harry looked confused for a moment, glancing between the shifted sink and Hermione. Then he cocked his head to one side, frowned, and then startled. "I forgot. I'm sorry. Hermione, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in this bathroom."

Hermione reacted as if someone had put a cattle-prod to her rear end, staring at the yawning opening that led down to the Chamber of Secrets. As expected, it didn't take her long to figure it out. "Harry? You put the **Chamber of Secrets** under the Fidelius Charm?"

This time, it was Harry's turn to blush. "Just the entry room and main chamber, really, though it can be extended."

"Harry! There's got to be some kind of rule against that!"

Harry, for his part, smirked. "I'll release the charm the moment you find a rule talking about the Chamber of Secrets in the school bylaws."

"Harry!"

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Argh!"

"If you two are almost done flirting, I'm getting a little impatient," the ghost in the room said, though she had an unusually amused tone to her voice. Especially for her. And was that more than a hint of hope in there too?

"Sorry, Myrtle," both teenagers replied. Hermione looked a bit abashed, but Harry just continued to look cheeky.

Harry turned the broom so that it faced the entry into the pipe that led down to the Chamber, and said, "If you'll climb on behind me, and light your wand, Hermione, I'll take you down there."

Hermione shrugged, and did the same. When Harry pivoted the broom downwards to enter the pipe, he felt Hermione's arms tighten around him, and he remarked. "We're going to need to work on your fear of flying." And then he was off, heading down the pipe at a - relatively - slow pace. At the bottom, they waited for only a moment or two before Myrtle arrived, following them.

"This way," Harry said, leading the way to the closed door, which he, once again, hissed open. He didn't slow as he passed through the doorway and down past the rows of serpentine figures to the chamber that still housed the giant body of the basilisk. He hovered long enough for Hermione to dismount, then did so himself. Then he took her arm and stepped back with her to allow Myrtle's ghost the best view.

"This is what killed you, Myrtle. It's a basilisk that Salazar Slytherin supposedly placed here a millennium ago." He paused for a moment. "Myrtle, were you a muggle-born witch?"

The ghost just nodded, staring up at giant snake.

"Then I'm certain I know why you were killed too," Harry said. This drew the ghost's attention, and she turned around. "Salazar's heir used the energy in your death to cut a part of his own soul out and place it inside an object. It's one of the darkest of Dark magics, and a way of achieving immortality. He goes by the name 'Lord Voldemort,' but you would probably remember him better as Tom Riddle."

"That Slytherin Prefect?" Myrtle gasped. "**He** did this to me?! When I get my hands on him..."

"The item that he used, which was a diary, was destroyed, by the way. Incidentally, it was pierced by a fang from the basilisk, so both that part of his soul and you died, indirectly, from the same thing. Voldemort isn't dead yet, but I'm hoping to make him that way real soon now."

This time, it was Hermione that gasped. Mostly at how **cold** that statement sounded.

"Good," Myrtle said, her voice angry now. "I can't believe him! He seemed like such a nice guy too!"

Hermione stared for a moment, sure she was seeing something that few others ever had, "Myrtle, you're gaining color back."

And she was. It was easy to see it now, even just in the wand's light and the sickly green light that was normal for the Chamber. She was gaining the coloring of a person who was alive and, perhaps more importantly, she wasn't drifting anymore. Instead, she was standing on two feet as she looked at the two normal students. (Though 'normal' wasn't exactly a word to use for Harry anymore.) Looking down at herself, she smiled, "So I am. And... I can feel again." She took a deep breath. "You have no idea how good it feels to breathe real air after so long."

Then she turned coquettish. "You know, Harry, there was one other thing I never got a chance to do in my life."

Harry eyed the ghost who appeared to be returning to life. Or something. "Yes....?"

Myrtle smiled, and in this, it became obvious what a lovely young woman she would have originally become. "I never got a chance to kiss a cute boy. Would you mind?"

Harry only hesitated a moment, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. It's not like Myrtle'd never made indications she might fancy him before, even as a ghost. How could he deny her now? "All right."

The ex-ghost's entire face lit up happily, and she swooped in to claim her prize. Then she stepped back, and now it was obvious that pieces of her were vanishing, her entire body becoming more and more translucent.

Harry watched. It was obvious what was happening. "Myrtle, could you do me a favor?"

Myrtle merely nodded, and Harry continued. "If you see my mum and dad, would you tell them that I love them, and I miss them. My dad, he looks like me, just older. And my mum looks almost like an older version of the girl that came down here two years ago." _And doesn't THAT make me marrying her in several worlds severely strange?_

"And, if you end up coming back here, as a guardian angel or something...," Harry continued. "... there's a girl in Ravenclaw. Long blonde hair, a little unconventional." There's the understatement of the year. "She'd be a third year this year. She's a really special girl. Her name is Luna. And I think they've been treating her the way they treated you when you were alive, including stealing her things."

The perturbed look was visible on Myrtle's face for a moment before her body finished breaking up into little sparkles of light, vanishing into the darkness.

Hermione, who'd been standing to the side and slightly behind Harry, was crying silently. "I think... I think that might be the sweetest thing I've ever seen, Harry."

Harry looked a little sad as well, although his lips twisted in a wry smile. "You would. But you're not the one who just had that little minx slip you a hint of tongue."

And then the laughter of both echoed throughout the chamber.

Author's Note: I didn't intend for this to take so long: the Myrtle scene was supposed to be a short that led up to the 'adventure' Harry promised Hermione in the last chapter. But it got away from me, and I didn't want to trim it. Mostly because I always thought Myrtle got an even rougher deal than Harry did. I wanted her to be happy for once.


	4. A Goblin Bank is Run with Precision

Title: Being Harry Potter XCIV  
Description/Summary: Harry Potter's adventures in the fight against Voldemort. A sort-of meta-fanfic.  
Spoilers: All of the books (and probably several standard fanfic cliches)  
Character Bashing: None so far. No guarantees that won't change.  
Feedback/C&C: Please! Always welcome!  
Archiving: If you want to archive this, please contact me first.  
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to their respective owners, including Ms Rowling and the relevant movie companies. Used without permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of the characters.

Chapter Four: A Goblin Bank is Run With Precision

Harry let out a long sigh as the laughter died away. "Well, on to it, then." He frowned for a moment, then said, "Hermione, you wouldn't happen to have a rubber band or a hair band or something, would you?"

That only got a blink from the female side of the conversation. "Yes, I think so. But why do you need one? It's not like your hair is very long."

"I figured I might need some kind of disguise," Harry said. He lifted his wand and tapped his own head, uttering the color-change charm and shifting his own hair color to a dark red.

Hermione froze and frowned. "That's not a Weasley color, but it looks familiar. Why?"

"It's my Mum's hair color," Harry said, tapping his head again, this time with a hair-thickening/growing charm. He waited until his hair had grown down to mid-back and forward to completely cover his forehead, and asked, "So, how do I look?"

"Strange," Hermione responded, speculatively.

"Gee, thanks," Harry said back, but his lips were twitching in amusement.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Hermione huffed. "I'm just not used to looking at you like this. But, at least I understand why you wanted the band." She'd collected a hair band from her pocket to hand to the Boy-Who-Grew-Hair. It was kind of girly, but that would only contribute to the disguise.

In point of fact, Harry DID look a lot like his mother at that moment. Most of the time, people said that he looked like his father, but with red hair down to mid-back and his mother's eyes, he'd likely really give some people a shock. And that was probably intentional, as well as him paying homage to her.

"I'm going to need to have ahold of you to do this," Harry said. He extended his hand out, having slipped two fingers into the hair band. He gave a mocking half-bow, "Shall we dance?"

Hermione giggled a little at that, and placed her hand in Harry's own, slipping two fingers into the band as well, and twining their fingers.

Harry said, "You should probably close your eyes. This can be a bit unpleasant."

Showing her trust, Hermione did just that. For a moment, the image of Myrtle kissing Harry popped back into her head, and she realized that she was feeling more than a hint of jealousy. This was shattered as she felt Harry tap her head with his wand, followed by the feeling of something cold and wet trickling down her back.

"Don't open your eyes yet," Harry's voice warned, hand moving to settle behind her back and on her hip (as in the standard dance position). "Because here we go." He mouthed the word 'Portus' and stared at the hair band as it turned blue, then activated.

Hermione felt as though a hook just behind her navel had been jerked forward, carrying her with it. _That's a portkey! Where the hell did he get a portkey?!_ She could feel the howl of the wind passing by, even as Harry cinched in his hold almost protectively. Or perhaps she was just reading into that. Her feet slammed into the ground and she almost staggered, except that Harry hadn't released his hold. He turned it into a whirl and there was a loud cracking sound, a sensation of being forced through a very tight tube, and then another loud cracking sound. _What the hell was THAT?_

"Just another moment," Harry said. Once again, the tap on the head, and this time it felt like something hot was running down her back. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Hermione did just that, and then was forced to squint. The light level was much higher here, and the place was very different. But that was to be expected: why use a portkey if you weren't going a significant distance? But this...? "Where are we?"

"An alley off Charing Cross Road, down the block from the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said. "I figured it would be a good idea if we were seen coming in off the street than just appear directly in Diagon Alley." He grinned. "I need to do some shopping."

"Okay," Hermione said, and looked down at herself. At least she was dressed in something that didn't look overtly like something from the wizarding or muggle world; she wouldn't really draw attention in either. For that matter, Harry's clothes wouldn't either, but he would have known what to dress for. Unfortunately, her curiosity was popping up again. "So, what was that? I mean, I recognized the feeling of the portkey, but what was that other stuff?"

Harry paused for a long moment, and said, "Better you don't know. Plausible deniability and all that, at least until you can occlude your mind. Look at it this way, you can tell people I kidnapped you, if it comes to that!"

"Harry! I'd never do that!"

Harry grinned toothily, taking a moment to wrap the hair band around his hair, making the newly-longer hair into a pony-tail. "So, how do I look?"

Hermione considered Harry thoughtfully. While she wasn't the fashion aficionado that Lavender or Parvati were, she could at least tell when something clashed or not. "Like a younger version of Bill Weasley?"

Harry grinned at that, "That's cool. Bill's usually a good guy." He began to make his way out towards the street. "Actually, if you need to call me and don't want to ruin who I am, call Barney Weasley." _Gods know I've been called that before._ "Or, even better, Bernie. That's a name that could be male or female. C'mon, let's go."

Harry and Hermione made it to the Leaky Cauldron with no issues, and Hermione passed through to the rear without waiting. Harry, however, stopped to talk to Tom, the barman, for several minutes. When Harry finally rejoined Hermione, he was grinning almost evilly.

"What?" she asked.

"No-thing...," Harry responded, but still grinning. This only produced a frustrated breath of air from Hermione, as she pressed the bricks to allow them entrance.

"First to Gringotts," Harry said. "I need money to buy stuff." But he did, once again, offer his arm to Hermione, to walk with her. Hermione rolled her eyes, but took his arm.

Gringotts was as impressive as it usually was, but Harry didn't dawdle, almost pulling Hermione along. At this time on a Saturday morning, the bank was not particularly busy. In point of fact, most of Diagon Alley wasn't particularly busy. Which made it a good time for inconspicuous shopping, and Harry wanted to get right to it.

When they got to the desk, Harry took a deep breath and released Hermione's arm. He straightened up, and said, imperiously, "I am Harry Potter. Time is money. I'm not going to waste yours, so don't waste mine. I want an escort to my vault to make a withdrawal, and when I get back, I want to speak to the goblin in charge of the Potter family accounts. Tell him or her that I expect copies of all access and transaction logs for all accounts going back to January 1980, and a complete family asset list if it is available."

The goblin stared over the counter at Harry, but he didn't back down, not in attitude or posture. "Key?" Which Harry produced. "Looks like this is in order. I will have someone take you down to the vault." He rang a bell, calling for an escort.

When the escort arrived, Harry very nearly jumped him in anger. Only Hermione's presence - and the fact that Griphook hadn't betrayed them in this world yet - stopped him. Still, he probably held Hermione's hand a bit tighter than he meant to, if the looks she gave him were any indication.

Harry relaxed slightly during the ride in the vault cart, and Hermione asked, whispering directly in his ear over the sound of their movement. "So, what was all that back there?"

Harry grimaced apologetically, "Sorry about that. It's usually best to approach goblins completely in business mode. They respect you more if you don't waste their time, so saying it outright like that means you know what they want. Plus, you know, just sitting around in a bank - not all that much fun."

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said. "Though it's good information to have."

"Later," Harry said, as the cart slowed to a stop. It didn't take long, and it did give Hermione her first look at the contents of Harry's vault, and the mounds of gold, silver, and bronze coins within. Then they were back on the way back up topside, and Harry allowed himself to enjoy the ride.

Halfway there, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, once again directly into his ear, "**That's** your family vault?! I've never seen so much gold at once!" Suddenly, she began to understand Ron's occasional jealousy on the issue. Not agree, but, at least, understand.

"No!" Harry replied, nearly falling into Hermione as the cart whipped around the corner. "That's **my** vault. I'll explain once we're off this crazy thing!"

Which didn't take long. Harry gave thanks to Griphook, but no tip (because goblins considered that an insult, even if they were greedy as all hell) and let them return. Harry went on to explain. The first three words were said softly, so as to make it less likely to be overheard. "In most worlds, while the Evanses are muggles, the Potters are an old-line Wizarding family, the same as the Weasleys, the Blacks, the Malfoys, and several others. The Blacks are actually the oldest of those four, I think, but I also think the Potters and Blacks are related. Probably the Malfoys and Weasleys too. Actually, the whole pure-blood Wizarding World is kind of inbred, as I recall. Part of why it's so backwards, I suppose." He paused, thinking. "I wonder if I might be able to find the Black and Potter family tapestries. That might have some useful information I could use."

He shook his head and went back to the previous topic, his voice quieting. "Some families are aligned with mostly lightside magics. The Potters and the Weasleys are two of those, usually. Some families are aligned with mostly darkside magics. The Blacks and Malfoys are examples of those. And then there are neutral families. Daphne's family, the Greengrasses, usually are neutral. Of course, this is all based on information from other worlds, but that's the average scenario." He looked ahead to where an extremely well-dressed goblin was waiting for them. "And I'd guess the part about the Potters is true, at least."

"Mister Potter, I am Nukmak, the manager responsible for the Potter family vaults. This way." No 'please' or anything like that, but Harry was unsurprised.

Harry was led to an office towards the back. When Hermione hesitated, Harry would have none of it, merely taking her arm and pulling her along with him. He handed her off to a seat and then settled into his own, taking the papers Nukmak handed him wordlessly. He took a few moments to peruse the information. "All right. For this account, I need a few things done. First, remove Albus Dumbledore's access and remove all notifications." This got a blinking reaction from Hermione, who couldn't figure out why Professor Dumbledore needed access in the first place, but Harry wasn't done. "If the Headmaster needs Potter monies, he can talk to me about it first and I will get it for him. All notifications and statements should now be directed to me by post."

"Done," Nukmak said, making a notation on his pad.

He flipped a page. "I want to buy a new safe, to be attached to my account. Use the smallest one, and the interest rate I'll leave up to you to set. Transfer one galleon per week into this new safe as principle."

Nukmak made another note, and nodded. "The key should be ready by the end of business today."

"Very good," Harry said. "Next, add an access to my account. Name: Granger, Hermione."

Hermione jumped. She hadn't actually been listening, mostly because she was bored, but also because she considered Dumbledore's access to Harry Potter's account something of a puzzle to work out. "Wait? What about me?"

But the goblin didn't stop, still addressing Harry. "Limit?"

"Free access, one hundred galleons per month. More only with authorization from myself." Harry said. "Unless I die, in which case, full access."

Hermione froze, then asked, her voice tight, "What? What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry looked over at Hermione, and grinned evilly, then looked back at the goblin, who asked, "To clarify, you are naming Miss Granger as your effective heir?"

"WHAT?!" Hermione screeched.

"Yes," Harry said, only wincing a little at the loud voice right next to his head. "At least until such a time as I can contact my family barrister and swear out an actual Will. Do you have a listing for him or her?"

"It's included with your family assets listing," Nukmak replied, then finally turned towards Hermione. He extended a gnarled hand and ordered, peremptorily, "Hand."

Hermione extended her hand on automatic, staring at Harry like she'd never seen him before, when she felt a prick of a needle. "Ow!" It really wasn't all THAT painful, but more of a surprise. Though the goblin squeezing a drop of blood out of her finger onto a marking pen did sting a bit more.

Harry pulled out his wand and casually waved it over Hermione's finger when she pulled her hand back, "Episkey." The wound sealed with barely a thought. "And, later," he said to her, indicating his explanation.

The goblin used the blood-marked pen to make a note, and said, "Done. This key will also be ready by end of business today."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Please mark the first key with a 'W' on it, and this key with an 'H' and a 'G'. Now, about my family vaults?"

"You cannot access your family vaults until you are seventeen...," Nukmak said.

"Seventeen specifically, or when I'm a legal adult?" Harry asked, interrupting.

"Well, the latter, actually," the goblin replied.

"Very well," Harry said. "Watch for that to come sooner rather than later, probably through the muggle system. Now, the asset listing and logs?" His tone was carefully designed to sound impatient for delays, which was productive, since the paperwork was turned over immediately.

"Remove Albus Dumbledore from the access list," Harry said.

"You cannot access your family vaults until you are a legal adult," Nukmak repeated. "That includes making access changes."

Harry snarled - or, at least seemed to. He'd dealt with many goblins over his time, and knew how to act appropriately. Hermione, for her part, had gone quiet again, now trying to figure out why Harry had just made her, of all things, his **heir**.

Then he really DID snarl. "Remove Peter Pettigrew's limited access to my family accounts." Hermione let out a gasp.

"You cannot access your family vaults until you are a legal adult," Nukmak repeated once again.

"Use the family betrayal override," Harry said, not backing down at all. "Peter Pettigrew is responsible for the deaths of my parents."

Nukmak stared at Harry for a long moment, wondering how Harry even knew of those clauses. It wasn't his business to ask, though. He just made a note on his pad. "Done. Will that be all?"

Harry paused for a moment, "Yes, though I will want to know which of these properties are muggle and which are wizarding at some point." He looked over at Hermione for a moment, then back at Nukmak. "And can we have the room for a few minutes?"

The goblin stood and merely walked out the door, allowing it to click shut behind him. It was a tacit acceptance of the request - and an indication that he wasn't going to waste time, his or otherwise.

Harry turned in his chair to look at Hermione. He leaned forward, reached across, and took her hands. "Now, you had a question?"

Hermione looked up, "Why? Why me? And why... why are you thinking about your own death so, so unemotionally?" There were the faint tracks of tears on her face.

Harry was quiet for a long moment before answering. "I can think of it so unemotionally because it's happened to me before, several times. As for why you? Well, in very few worlds are you the one to betray me. It might have to do with the lack of friends before Hogwarts... yes, don't be surprised that I know that... or it might be just not generally in your nature, but the only times I don't trust you is when you let your obsessions get strong enough to block everything else out. And even that generally doesn't happen for at least a couple more years, as timelines go."

He went on, explaining, "I have to have an heir, or with my death, my family monies and properties revert. Usually to the closest male relative, and since I don't know my family tree here, that's not a chance I'm willing to take. Draco could, for example, end up with everything my family owns. And that would be bad. That's not even including the free-for-all that would probably happen as 'relatives' come out of the woodwork to make claims. And probably at least half of it would end up in Ministry hands instead."

"Come on, cheer up, okay? By doing this, I'm saying that I trust you **not** to abuse what I've given you." He smirks. "And, at the same time, I'm taking a swipe at the pure-blood idealists. If I die, and you are a legal adult, you would become a noblewoman - either Lady Granger or Lady Potter, if you chose to adopt the name - your choice. And wouldn't **that** tweak the noses of them all? It'd be a last prank on the Wizarding world on my part."

Hermione laughed, but it wasn't a very mirthful sound, and Harry didn't expect it to be. He also wasn't expecting Hermione to throw herself at him and hug him, but she did, and he probably should have. "Just... just, don't die, okay?" she cried into his shirt. "If you die, I'll find you and drag you back. Or... or... or when I die, I'll haunt you!"

Okay, now she was just babbling, but that was fine. Harry rubbed her back gently, "I'll try not to, Hermione. But, remember, I'm fighting a monster here. There's just no other word for him. In many cases, I've survived only through sheer luck. But the me that you see now is a lot more capable, a lot stronger. Even then, I don't assume that I'm going to win, so I plan for the worst. You okay? Huh? Hermione?"

Hermione lifted her face from Harry's chest, and nodded, settling back on her chair. Her eyes were puffy, and there were definite tear tracks there this time. Harry plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her to help her clean herself up.

"Once you're ready, we still have things to do today," Harry said, standing and offering Hermione a hand up, which she took. A quick scourgify cleaned up the handkerchief, and Harry repocketed it. They quickly made their way out of the bank.

"And next, off to Ollivander's!" Harry put his arm around Hermione's waist. He told himself that it was because she was probably feeling a little fragile, but part of him knew that was a lie. Just like every other time it had been.


	5. Shopping Trip, part 1

Title: Being Harry Potter XCIV  
Description/Summary: Harry Potter's adventures in the fight against Voldemort. A sort-of meta-fanfic.  
Spoilers: All of the books (and probably several standard fanfic cliches)  
Character Bashing: None so far. No guarantees that won't change.  
Feedback/C&C: Please! Always welcome!  
Archiving: If you want to archive this, please contact me first.  
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to their respective owners, including Ms Rowling and the relevant movie companies. Used without  
permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of  
the characters.

Chapter Five: Shopping Trip, part 1

Though the sun had risen further during the time Harry and Hermione had been inside the wizarding bank, there wasn't a great deal more light outside when the arrived. At some point, it had rained, and now a light mist covered the ground, leaving a bit of a winter chill in the air. Harry almost casually conjured a set of light jackets for himself and Hermione.

It also served to help a bit with the disguise. Noone could see details through the misty morning.

Despite the fact that Hermione had regained control of herself, and didn't seem as fragile as she was inside, Harry didn't remove his arm from around her back and waist. This was more force of habit than anything else; since leaving the bank with an arm around her, there was no real impetus to change it. Nor, if Harry would be willing to admit to himself, did he want to.

Traveling through world after world, one learned how to manufacture the appropriate responses to nearly every situation, essentially to trick people into thinking you're reacting normally. However, the problem remains that it was just as easy to trick one's self at the same time.

Finally, Harry and Hermione arrived at the tiny shop that housed the best of all the British wand makers. Harry wondered, as he always did, why Ollivander kept himself in such a small place. With wands being needed by every wizard and witch before they started school, wouldn't a bigger place be more beneficial? And then Harry wondered what the effect of all that magic being in one place would be on the store. There was more magical potential in any space inside Ollivanders than there was in places of more active use, like Hogwarts itself.

Harry pushed open the door, and a bell clanged in the background. He spotted the rickety chair that had been there the first time he'd come, though it looked somewhat the worse for wear. Or perhaps that was from when Mister Ollivander had frightened both of them and Hagrid had sort-of 'crunched' the poor thing.

"Hello?" called Harry, peering around, knowing that Mister Ollivander had a tendency to appear out of nowhere to try and scare his customers. Unfortunately, looking one way meant that you weren't looking the other.

"Good morning, Mister Potter," Ollivander softly voiced, standing right behind the two Gryffindors.

_Damn it! How does he keep __**doing**__ that?_ Harry wondered.

"I was not expecting to see you again so soon. That is a most interesting look for you, Mister Potter. You are the spitting image of your mother, though I can see your father's lines in your face as well. And also a good morning to you, Miss Granger. Vine, 10¾", dragon heartstring, if I recall correctly? Excellent wand for charms work. Is it serving you well?"

"Er, yes sir?" Hermione said, flinching away slightly from the examination. The guy was a little creepy, what could she say?

"Good, good," Ollivander said. "And yours, Mister Potter? Holly, 11", phoenix tailfeather? Excellent for protective and defensive magics. Is it serving you well?"

"Er, yes sir?" Harry replied, almost unconsciously echoing Hermione. He wasn't so much spooked as annoyed. It didn't matter how many 'worlds' he'd been through, it seemed - Ollivander could still sneak up on him.

"Well, then what can I do for you two?" Ollivander said. "If you needed more supplies to care for your wands, you could have simply ordered through the post, after all."

"Er, well, Mister Ollivander, I need a new wand," Harry said, then paused thoughtfully. "And, sir, would you mind a slightly-personal question?"

Ollivander's eyebrows went up, and he nodded.

"Well, I was wondering if you were related to Luna Lovegood? I just noticed the similarities in both of your eyes."

The elderly man smiled, "Yes, young Luna is my great-granddaughter. I take it you've met?"

_Well, not really. Or, at least, probably not yet in this reality._ Harry thought. "I've seen her across the Great Hall. She's... distinctive."

"Ah yes, that's because she takes more after her paternal family side in some ways. On that side of the family, she is Cassandra Trelawney's great-great-great-granddaughter, if I remember correctly."

That was actually something he'd never heard before, but it made a LOT of sense. "Then she's related to Hogwarts' Divination teacher?"

"Yes, Sybill is her great-aunt. But, you were asking me about a new wand? You didn't say there was anything wrong with the old one?"

Harry nodded. "I should properly say that I need an additional wand. I was thinking one made with birch wood?"

"You are aware, young man, that very few are trained to be able to handle two wands at one time? Also, only Aurors and Unspeakables normally are allowed two wands." He paused for a long moment, taking in the two teenagers with their arms around each other. "I can assure you that both of your wands are quite capable of casting contraceptive charms. Should, in fact, be quite good at them."

Harry and Hermione blinked at this, then turned their heads to look at each other, confused. Both sets of eyes widened, and then, almost without passing through the intervening spaces, they were on opposite ends of the tiny room (which, granted, wasn't all that far away). Both of their faces were burning hot enough that they could almost set things on fire.

"No! No!" Harry protested. "We would never do that! We're just friends!" Harry's brain caught up with what his mouth was saying and he looked desperately at Hermione, who apparently hadn't caught it yet. "I mean, it's not that I wouldn't want to, or anything like that, but..." He almost screamed and turned back on Ollivander, "Damn it! You did that on-purpose!"

Ollivander chuckled softly, and he shook a wrinkled finger gently, "Oh, I do quite remember what it was like to be your age, young man. You are not fooling me."

Hermione managed to blow through states of embarrassment and anger, ending up with her old standby, curiosity. Her face was still flaming, but she asked, "Why did you think H... Harry was asking about a wand for con... contraception?"

Ollivander turned a grandfatherly smile on Hermione. It was much like Dumbledore's, but quite a bit more creepy. There was just something about those silvered eyes. "Because Mister Potter was requesting a wand made from birch."

Harry picked up the explanation, "Different woods have different associations with it. Holly, for example, is a wood associated with protection. I'm not quite sure what vine is..."

Once again, Ollivander smirked and watched their faces. "Emotions. And sensuality."

Yep, two sets of burning faces again.

"Vine wands excel in spellwork that is rooted in the use of emotion as control, and in the use of spells that either inhibit or expand sensuality. For the former, consider the levitation charm, one of the first taught. I would gather that you did rather well at it, Miss Granger?"

There was no mistaking the pride that came from **Harry's** voice. "First in our class, across all the houses." _Crap! Her wand helps her express sensuality? That explains a lot about __**that**__ world._

"As for the latter, I do believe I shall let the young lady discover that on her own," Ollivander said.

Harry cleared his throat. "In any case, birch wood represents healing magic and, yes, fertility magic. But I'm more interested in the more generalized aspect of **life** magic. Mister Ollivander, I need a wand that can help me counter the darkest of dark magics. Horcruxes, to be specific."

Ollivander's face lost all hint of humor. "That is not a topic any sane or reasonable wizard or witch should be involved with, especially one your age, Mister Potter."

Hermione asked, guilelessly, "What are horcruxes?"

Harry winced, having forgotten for just a moment who his audience was. "It's something else I can't talk to you about until you learn to occlude your mind. I will say that this is not something you should be involved in." Crossing the room to take her hands again, much as he had in the bank, "I know you're curious, and I won't make you make a Wizard's Oath since I trust you, but... I want you to promise to stay away from this, Hermione. This is major bad juju. I can't emphasize it enough." _And, to a certain extent, I do understand why Dumbledore hesitated so long to talk to me about this. I just think it was a mistake._

Hermione frowned, not happy with this idea. She knew that her curiosity about this would just eat her up inside. "All right. I promise." So she would just have to study this occlumency thing, and then he could tell her. How hard could it be?

Harry released one of Hermione's hands and turned back towards Ollivander. "There's another reason I need a new wand as well. Because, in the worst possible situation, having my current wand is like not having a wand at all."

"Oh? How so?"

Harry lifted his holly wand. "Against its brother wand, priori incantantem applies."

Ollivander frowned again. "You are correct. That is something I had not considered. You need to have something that you can use against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand. I will do it, but there is one problem. I do not have any cores with the kind of power that you will need."

"Would a fang from a millennium-old basilisk do?" Harry asked, depositing a wrapped bundle on the counter.

"Priori incantantem?" Hermione asked. "Reversed spell effect? What does the ability to check what spells a wand has cast have to do with You-Know-Who's wand?"

Ollivander almost choked. "The fang from a millennium-old basilisk?" he squeaked, attention directed away from the other two. "Yes, yes, that should do." His hands twitched slightly as he moved behind the counter to unwrap the fang.

"If it helps, the venom from that beast still runs through my body, as well as phoenix tears, which are what healed me from it. Tears from the same phoenix that my normal wand core is from. So I don't think that there will be a problem of conflicting foci."

Ollivander jerked his head up and stared at Harry, who was still holding one of Hermione's hands. "It sounds like your wand has already seen its share of dangers."

"I have, and it has," Harry said. "But I'd be dead without my friends." He looked towards Hermione, who blushed suddenly at the attention.

Ollivander nodded distractedly, as he stared at the fang on the counter. "I will begin work on your new wand. Come back in a week. I should have an idea how long it will take by then."

"How much will it cost?" Harry asked.

Ollivander looked up. "If this turns out to be what you say it is, there will be no charge. I will merely keep the rest of it for making more wands." And, he didn't need to add, make up the cost by selling them.

"All right," Harry said. "Could you reinforce the wood at all? It's quite likely that it'll be taken into a combat scenario, so I'd like it to be tough."

"I'll see what I can do," Ollivander said, his tone distant as he examined the fang from every side.

Harry looked back at Hermione and nodded his head towards the door. The two edged their way out onto the street and closed the door carefully, in an attempt not to set off the bell.

"I forgot to ask him if he wanted me to take a message for Luna," Harry said. "But I don't think he'd even hear me if I went back in." He shrugged, and then ducked his head. "I'm sorry if I insulted you inside."

Hermione blinked in confusion. "I don't remember you insulting me. What are you talking about?"

Harry let out a breath of air. "Don't worry. It's not important, so long as you're not angry with me. C'mon. I need to get myself a new trunk, and then... then we can go to Flourish and Blotts to see how much of my money you can spend."

Hermione growled and took a swat at Harry with her free hand. "You....!"

"Yes, me!" He tugged on her hand and pulled her towards the next shop.


	6. Shopping Trip, part 2

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to their respective owners, including Ms Rowling and the relevant movie companies. Used without permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of the characters.

It didn't take long for Harry and Hermione to reach the shop where trunks were sold. The morning mist had thickened into a light fog, making visual identification even less possible and causing sounds to echo strangely.

Outside the door, Harry looked up at the sign over the door, which read 'Pracht Associates.' This was one of the little things that changed in, seemingly, every 'world' he went through. Ollivanders was always Ollivanders, but the trunk shop - or, more properly, 'container shop' - never had the same name twice. The store was about the same size as Ollivanders, deep with a relatively narrow front window and entrance. Most of the stores in Diagon Alley were like that, in fact. In this particular case, the front window was nearly completely filled by an oversized trunk, as long and wide as the mattresses in the Gryffindor dorm rooms.

For a moment, Harry wondered why the beds in the dorms were only singles in size, but he supposed that if students had the... need for a larger bed for a night or two, they could learn expansion charms in addition to the preferred silencing ones.

"C'mon," Harry said, squeezing Hermione's hand lightly. "Let's go in."

And in they went, bell ringing over the door as it opened. A long counter that ran the length of the front window, and a man sat behind it. He'd been caught snoozing, it seemed, because the sound of the bell ringing woke him with a start. "Welcome to Pracht Associates. May I... help you?" Apparently, the appearance of two teenagers wasn't something that he cared too much about, mostly because he knew that very few had any money to spend.

"Good morning," Harry chirped in response, completely ignoring the look on the seller's face. "I was wondering if you guys carried wand holsters?"

"We carry them, yes," the salesman said. "What options are you looking for?"

"Primarily protection against summoning - both of the wand within and the holster - and notice-me-not charms," Harry responded after a moment. "Are the left arm and right arm ones any different?"

"Only in how they're attached," the salesman said.

"I'll take three, then," Harry said, and then gestured to a series of velvet pouches with the Gringotts symbol and the symbols of various countries on them. "What are those?"

The salesman followed the glance, and said, "Monetary exchange purses, in cooperation with Gringotts. You deposit wizarding money and it returns muggle money and vice versa, all at a nominal fee. We have versions that exchange pounds, punts, lira, marks, guilders, pesetas, French and Belgian francs, American and Canadian dollars, or a version that can do all of them, as well Japanese and Chinese currency."

"Interesting," Harry said. "What's the fee?"

"Five percent," the salesman replied after a moment. "A bit more expensive than going into Gringotts to make the change yourself, but with a lot more convenience."

Harry nodded, "I'll take one of the ones that does it all."

The salesman collected three wand holsters and dug out one of the exchange purses/pouches. "That'll be 180 Galleons. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Harry plucked the pouch he'd taken from Gringotts earlier and counted out the requisite Galleons. It didn't seem like it made much of a dent, and the salesman noticed this, if the way his eyebrows went up was any indication. Once the sale was made, Harry went on. "I'd like to look at the trunk that you have in the window. I don't think I've seen wood like that before. It's one of those seven-section trunks, right?"

"Yes, it is. Fully-loaded, in fact," the salesman said, his face closing down. "And the wood is pearwood, which can only be found in certain magical wild areas in Australia. But it costs a bomb, so I don't think you can afford it. It's mostly a set-piece, something that my grandfather made over a century ago and loaded down with every enchantment he, my father and I could think of since then."

Hermione frowned slightly, but it was mostly in concentration. Where had she heard of pearwood before?

"I don't know," Harry said. "I can probably afford more than you think I can. Can I have a look at it?"

The salesman decided that it didn't hurt to humor the boy. Truthfully, nothing could come of it if the trunk didn't accept him anyway; the trunk was so old and full of magic that it had taken on a sort of life of its own. It wasn't quite sentient, but it would refuse to even open for someone it didn't accept.

"Very well," he said with a put-upon sigh. "Step around to the side door and come up here while I find the keys." Gesturing with his wand - which appeared in his hand from what was, more than likely, the same kind of holster that Harry had just bought - he unlocked the small door that led into the area between the counter and the front window. Harry scooted around to enter through the door and up into the front window, then turned to offer Hermione a hand up as well, drawing another blush from her, though only a light one. It was, after all, only the gentlemanly thing to do, but Hermione was young and unused to that kind of treatment.

"Aha!" the salesman said. "Here we go." He tossed a key towards Harry, who turned, Seeker reflexes serving him well in capturing the small metal piece in mid-air.

"Well, go ahead." Harry shrugged and turned completely to the trunk, placing a hand on top of it for balance as he moved around to the front.

_Blimey! _the salesman thought when absolutely nothing happened. _It accepted him! It hasn't accepted anyone other than my family in over fifty years, and even then, that kid couldn't afford it!_

"All right, sir?" That was Hermione asking, having noticed how still the salesman had gone.

Shaking himself, he nodded and stepped around the other side of the chest. He pointed his wand at the door, flipping the sign to say 'closed.' When he turned around, Hermione had joined Harry at the front of the trunk, her hand next to his atop it. _Bloody hell! It accepted BOTH of them?! That's never happened before!_

This time, both Harry and Hermione were staring when the salesman shook himself out of it again. "All right," he responded, then gestured at the still-closed trunk. "Now, if you open the lid, you'll find a ladder leading down. Please go ahead."

Which they did. Harry went first, followed by Hermione, and then by the Pracht Associates salesman, who wasn't surprised to find both of the teenagers staring around with something resembling awe on their faces.

For Hermione, it was true. She had never expected to descend a ladder in a trunk and end up in what looked like the living room of a really posh apartment. As for Harry, well, after going through most of these things so often, he'd become quite a good actor. Then again, he was always a little impressed with this kind of thing. If nothing else, for the spellwork alone. And, from what Harry could see, there was even some stuff he didn't understand in here. And that happened so rarely these days that it was something to be appreciated.

"This is the first chamber of the trunk, the owner's apartment," the salesman began. "It can, of course, be adjusted to your needs in design and color fairly easily, but we'll discuss the control console later. The apartment consists of this living room, dining room, master bedroom, and a master bath which includes a self-contained water supply and waste disposal via the use of Aguamenti and Evanesco spells. There is no kitchen here - that's in the second chamber of the trunk, where we'll go next."

"The trunk itself is spelled to be found in two different forms. The first is the one you saw in the window, while the second reduces the entire contents to approximately the size and shape of a deck of playing cards. In either form, it is feather-light regardless of what is inside it, and a notice-me-not charm can be activated on it from within or without at will. It is impervious to pretty much any condition you can think of, and has been tested by Albus Dumbledore himself under everything short of the Killing Curse itself. It is also self-repairing and the contents cannot be monitored by any outside forces we know about without the knowledge of the owner." He smirked slightly. "That means that the underage magic rules do not apply within."

"While inside the trunk - in any of the chambers - you can access a control console." Just then, an understated black box appeared in front of the salesman with no fanfare whatsoever. The only thing marring the box was a round hole, into which the salesman stuck his wand. "Theoretically, the trunk can be commanded to fly on its own through the use of the console and your wand, but we have never been able to test that fully. You can also, however, command the chest to create scrying eyes as well."

Four windows - for lack of a better word - appeared hovering at head height around the salesman. One appeared to be facing into the shop, one out onto the misty street, and the other two to either side of the trunk's exterior. "These viewers can view all sides - including top and bottom - of the outside of the trunk, but the really key feature is that they can create floating 'eyes' that can view places outside the trunk from a limited distance. These scrying sensors are automatically disillusioned, and can fly as you might expect such a sensor to do. They can effectively apparate as well, but only when they are returning to the trunk."

The salesman turned to the window on his right and grabbed opposing corners of it, separating his hands and stretching the window further and further apart. "Each viewer can be expanded or contracted to whatever size you or the controller chooses, and can be moved into whatever position you choose to put them in." He contracted the window back to its original size, then pulled the three other windows into positions around it, so it looked like nothing so much as a Muggle security station. He stood aside and let Harry and Hermione - both now wearing identical looks on their faces - look through the windows.

"We recently added the ability to hear through the sensors as well," the salesman said. He extracted his wand from the control console and then dismissed both the console and the windows themselves. "Now, let's move on."

He hadn't expected to make a sale today, and he still didn't, but he still got a proud thrill showing off his family's work. Walking over to a fairly non-descript door, the only marker being an embossed 'P' on it, he went on. "All you need to do is think about which chamber you wish to go into, first through sixth, open the door, and step through. The door will remain open to that section until closed.

"First through sixth?" Hermione asked. "Weren't there seven sections?"

"Yes," the man said. "But the seventh section is only accessible from outside of the trunk. It is a pretty much a standard trunk, though it has magics of its own: it is four times as deep as usual and will automatically have what you're looking for on top if you're thinking of it when you open it. It also cleans and folds your laundry for you."

Harry smirked, "The House Elves must hate that idea." Hermione, of course, glared at him for this.

The Pracht Associates salesman chuckled. "I suppose they probably would, yes, but then, none of them have ever seen this trunk, I don't believe. Anyway, the second chamber..." He waited as Harry and Hermione passed through. "... contains the kitchen, as mentioned. It contains all of the equipment that you would find in either a Wizarding or Muggle kitchen, all designed to work with magic. Well, everything except one of those new Micowave Ovens. My Uncle Terrence could not figure out a way to have those work inside, and he said they could be dangerous too. In any case, you can see the small table that can be used for eating or serving from as well. That, the pantries, and the coolers all have keep-fresh charms on them. The coolers also have cooling charms that can range between -18 and 18 degrees on a case-by-case basis, and the same selection charms that the seventh section has - just think what you're looking for and it'll be in front. The pantries have that one as well."

"As you can see, the kitchen only makes up half of this chamber, while the other half is our potions lab. Since potions and cooking are so similar, we thought it would be a good idea to keep both of them together."

Hermione had, in fact, been looking over at the potions lab - which was separated from the kitchen by what looked like a sheet of heavy glass - for at least half of the explanation of the kitchen (which Harry seemed more interested in). "That looks a lot like part of a chemistry lab too," she remarked.

"Ah then," the salesman said. "Muggle-born, are you?" Hermione nodded, followed by Harry after a moment - it wasn't really worth it to explain that he was a muggle-raised half-blood. "That makes things easier. Yes, that's more influence from Uncle Terrence. This was, basically, his chamber to completely revamp the last time we did so, so he installed a full Muggle Chemistry lab as well as setting up safety precautions appropriately. Fumes and such are vanished much in the same was as waste disposal is handled in the apartment and in the sixth chamber. I forgot to mention, by the way, that the sensors can also view one chamber from another, so if you are working on a particularly volatile potion, you can observe it from any other chamber, or have someone else watching you. That's one of the safety precautions I meant."

"Next chamber, we have the library," the salesman said, causing Hermione's face to light up like a beacon. "Right now, there aren't many books in there, other than a complete set of Hogwarts books from twenty years ago and a self-updating copy of Hogwarts: a History." That did nothing but make Hermione smile even more. And that made Harry smile. But they were in and through to the next door in record time. "The fourth chamber is the exercise area. It's not very impressive at the moment, but the trunk comes with a half-off coupon from our sister company, which is run by my cousin. They sell all fashion of exercise equipment, including muggle versions, or so I understand."

Harry, for his part, wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he was staring at the opposite half of the room which was, like the kitchen/laboratory - divided by what looked like thick glass. "Aha, I see something has our interest, does it? That is our regulation dueling platform. The surroundings are impervious glass, and they have been stress-tested by Albus Dumbledore as well, though once again, not against the Unforgivables. Self-repairing training dummies can be used, and more can be ordered as well, also from our sister company."

"The fifth chamber..." the salesman began, chuckling as he had to pull Harry away. "... is empty." He opened the door and gestured inside, but did not close it once Harry and Hermione passed. "We figured we should leave one chamber completely empty for whatever purposes it could be used for. As you can see, it's quite large. If you'll come back out of there..."

He closed the door and opened it again. "The sixth chamber..." He paused and looked at the two youngsters. "I think you'll need to see it." He followed Harry and Hermione in, closing the door behind him.

Harry was simply looking around, confusion on his face. The room didn't share any of the creature comforts of the other five chambers, composed of brick walls and what looked like a concrete roof. One open door on the far end of the room appeared to lead into a room of doubled bunk beds, and another led into what looked like a communal shower.

Hermione paled, and looked more than a little ill. When she spoke, there was a quaver in her whispering voice. "This is an air raid shelter." Harry's attention snapped to Hermione, and he closed the distance to her, to put an arm around her.

The Pracht salesman nodded with a sigh. "This room was first built during Grindelwald's reign of terror. It's a standard street communal shelter that can house up to one hundred people, supplying water and food for... well, we never set a limit on it, really. We thought about taking it down when Grindelwald was sent to Nurmengard, but it turned out to be a good idea we didn't. Several members of my family and some of the surrounding families only survived You-Know-Who's rise to power because they had access to this chamber. And this chamber... this one has been tested to actually be able to withstand the Killing Curse. The walls are 36cm thick brick, and the roof is 30cm concrete, along with the same self-repair charms. We actually believe that the whole trunk will survive them, but there was a limit on what was allowed to be tested."

Shaking himself away from the memories, he went on. "Normal security on the trunk allows the owner to specify who can access which chamber he or she wants them to access. This room can be set to allow general access, or it can be set to limit access based on whether someone has a Dark Mark or not. That last was added the first time we were able to capture one of his Death Eaters and analyze it."

Harry said, "Maybe we should go?" He didn't like seeing Hermione like this, after all.

The salesman nodded and went to a different door - one under a glowing 'Exit' sign. "This way back up." Soon enough, all three were back in the main body of the store, the store's sign was flipped back to 'open,' and Harry and Hermione were standing on the customer side of the counter.

"All right," Harry said after another moment or two. "I want it. How much?"

The Pracht Associates man stared at Harry for a long moment, "Like I said, I doubt you can afford it. It's our most extravagant piece, and over a hundred years old. So, let's say... seventy thousand galleons."

Harry and Hermione immediately began coughing in dismay. "You're right," Harry said, finally. "I can't afford that... all at once. It'd completely drain my trust account and a good quarter of what I'd get when it refills at the beginning of the year."

This time it was the salesman's turn to be surprised. "Just who are you, boy?"

Harry sighed. "Well..." He looked at Hermione, who shrugged, then lifted the red hair that he'd grown out to cover his scar.

"Oh my! You're Harry Potter!" The salesman responded. "That changes things. I'm sure you noticed the 'P' on the doors between the chambers, yes?" He waited while both teenagers nodded. "They're there because this trunk was originally designed for your grandfather." He paused. "Actually, it'd probably be your great-grandfather. Harold's father, Perram. So, let's say... 45,000 galleons."

Hermione just stared. But Harry did a double-take, not expecting quite that reduction. "That's still a little too rich for my blood at the moment. I'm hoping to come into my majority soon, but I was really looking for something... well, let's just say that having a place to practice duelling would be good. And having my own kitchen to work from over the summer would be absolutely ace." He exchanged a look with Hermione on that.

At that, Hermione spoke up, "What kind of discount would Harry get if he gave you permission to use his likeness to advertise? I don't mean to pry, but... it seems like you have a lot of inventory, and I can't imagine that you get as many customers as you might during the summer hols? Every little bit counts, right?"

The salesman smiled cannily. "This is a smart lass you have here, Mr. Potter. Quite right. We do all right, but we could always use some more purchases. How about I reduce the price to, say, 35,000 galleons... but both we and our sister store get those rights."

Hermione said, "Harry gets to choose the pictures used?"

Between Harry, Hermione, and the Pracht Associates salesman - who finally introduced himself as Daley Pracht - they managed to negotiate a price and conditions for using Harry's name and image. Daley called them back behind the counter to apply blood to the top of the trunk for recognition purposes, and Harry walked out of the store with a handshake and a new item the size of a deck of cards.

The next stop was, as Harry had mentioned, Flourish and Blotts. The weather was still frightful, but Harry still pulled Hermione aside before they arrived, his face contemplative. "We need to change how you look."

"What?" Hermione said. "Why?" She wasn't angry. Just curious.

Harry grinned. "Because you're the bookstore-maniac. I'd just be another customer, but you, they'll see you coming and go 'oh no, she's back!'" He ducked a slap on the head, and said, "Don't box my ears because I know you too well, Hermione Granger. Besides, it's kind of fun being in disguise. And I have just the disguise for you, too."

Harry reached up to the back of his head and pulled off the hair band that Hermione had given him earlier. He handed it back to her and then tapped her head gently with his wand. "There," he said. "Now you have my hair color. All we need is Ron, we give him your brown hair color, and we could REALLY start confusing people."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Harry, combing her hair down and putting the clip back in. "But that's not a Weasley color, remember," she said.

"Yes, yes, I know, Miss Perfect," Harry said, though his tone was teasing. "Let's go buy some books, shall we? I've got a library to fill."

Hermione grinned cheerfully, her face lighting up again at the mention of the library. "Okay!"

"Erk, wait," Harry said. "Forgot. Try these." He held a set of glasses in his hand that weren't too dissimilar from his own. "They'll change the entire look of your face too. And they're just regular glass lenses, so they shouldn't interfere with your sight."

Hermione took one look at the glasses, giggled, and put them onto her face. "You can call me Kara, I suppose. Kara Kent."

Harry looked back at Hermione, his brow furrowing as he didn't understand what was so funny.. "Um, sure, if you'd like me to." With that, he headed into the store. Hermione looked after him, her face turning sad. How was it possible that he didn't catch a reference to a comic book character as familiar as Superman (or Supergirl, to be specific)?

The trip through the store actually didn't take too long, relatively speaking. At least, not when you considered that Hermione was one of the people shopping. Harry only picked up a few books, one of which was on on mental magics like Occlumency and Legilimency. He'd used that book himself on other worlds, and knew that Hermione handled books much better than direct training. Or, at the very least, the books gave her more confidence in her direct training.

When they stepped out of the bookstore, with the new books shrunken and in their pockets, the fog had started to lift. Things were beginning to get busier as well, so Harry and Hermione frequented the shadows. Not suspiciously, but enough so that their disguises were still fairly effective.

"So, where to next, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry stopped and squinted up at the sun, then smiled at his fellow Gryffindor. "It's noonish. I was thinking, maybe... would you like to go visit your parents?"

Author's Note: For Americans like me, temperature range given is roughly 0 degrees to 64 degrees Fahrenheit.


	7. Meet the Parents

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to their respective owners, including Ms Rowling and the relevant movie companies. Used without permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of the characters.

_Harry stopped and squinted up at the sun, then smiled at his fellow Gryffindor. "It's noonish. I was thinking, maybe... would you like to go visit your parents?"_

---

Hermione's entire face lit up, as Harry had known it would. It really wasn't all that surprising that most versions of Hermione missed her parents severely. There was only so much one could do with letters, after all, especially considering the delays that came from the Grangers not having an owl of their own (and, therefore, having to send their mail via the muggle drop box for Hogwarts, or whatever it was they did).

"Oh, can we?!" Hermione nearly shouted, remembering to quiet her voice only at the last second. Her eyes were sparkling as she focused on Harry.

"Well, unless you think they'd mind having a visit from their lovely daughter," Harry responded. He nearly shook his head, mentally. Hermione desperately needed to learn Occlumency; his passive Legilimency drew the image of her parent's house that was filling her mind as if she were screaming it at him.

"No, no! Let's go!" Hermione had clearly entirely missed that whole 'lovely' bit, as she wasn't blushing at all, and she practically pounced on Harry to hug him for even suggesting it. "Only, how are we going to get there? I know you can't have a portkey for there."

Harry grinned, not that Hermione could see it since her head was on Harry's shoulder. "Let me worry about that." And he did. He put his arms around Hermione and turned her on-the-spot, much like he had earlier. This time, it was clear that the sensation of the apparition - the squeezing tight tube and the cracking sounds - were entirely separate from either of the other two sensations.

Hermione looked around, not moving from Harry's arms. "What?! This is my house! How did we get here?" As usual, it didn't take her long for her to answer her own question. "You apparated us! That's what that sensation was, wasn't it? The feeling of being squeezed and then being somewhere else? When did you learn **that**? Can you teach me?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer when a tapping sound to his right drew his attention. Both children turned their heads to look, and found themselves looking back through a clear patio door at two adults. More specifically, two Granger adults. Hermione's father glared at Harry, or, more specifically, at how tightly Hermione had her arms around his neck, and he had his around her waist.

For the second time that day, Harry and Hermione ended up on opposite ends (this time of the patio doorway) without seeming to pass through the intervening area.

* * * *

A few minutes later, both Harry and Hermione were inside the house, still standing at least two feet away from each other and blushing madly.

"Not that we're not happy to see you, Hermione, but what, exactly, was that about?" Hermione's mother asked her daughter.

But Harry was the one to answer. "Sorry," he began. "It's my fault. I asked Hermione if she wanted to visit you, and she was thanking me for asking when I surprised her by bringing her here, and then she wanted to know how we got here and we kinda forgot what we'd look like standing together that way." Most of that was said in a rush, which the parents took a moment to parse before grinning in a way that did NOT make Harry feel any more at ease.

"Oh, well, that's all right then," Hermione's father said, before turning to sweep his daughter into a hug that put Harry's to shame.

"Daaaaaaaaad!" Hermione whined, but all three of the other people in the room knew that her complaint was just because she was expected to complain, not because she really wanted to. It was really rather the opposite.

"So, what happened to your hair, Hermione? And your teeth?" This was her mother asking, barely suppressing the desire to ask her daughter to open her mouth more fully so that she could see.

Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but Harry, who had been looking anywhere but at the reunion, replied, "Those are my fault too, I'm afraid. See, we're, technically, away from school without leave. I needed to do some shopping, and I decided to bring Hermione along to corrupt her."

"Harry!" Guess who this was.

"Is it working?" was the amused - and surprisingly hopeful - question from Hermione's mother, who wrinkled her nose in suppressed laughter when both children blinked at her in surprise.

Harry grinned toothily at Hermione, and said, "Anyway, I decided to stop by a bookstore..." And he could already see the looks of understanding popping up on the parents' faces, giving clear indication of where Hermione's intelligence came from. "... and didn't want her to be recognized. So I changed the color of her hair and conjured a set of glasses for her."

Harry flicked his wrist, and his wand popped out of the new holster. He began to gesture toward Hermione, but stopped. He tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment, then walked over to one wall of the kitchen they were standing in and gestured with the wand, 'drawing' something on the wall. Hermione's curiosity peaked moments later and she followed Harry over, and then she was followed by her parents.

"Is that a rune against... detection?" Hermione asked, as she stared as the magical fire writing itself into the wall where Harry's wand passed. Her parents looked at each other in confusion.

"A temporary one," Harry confirmed, finally closing the rune. He placed one hand against the rune and 'pushed' his magic into it, causing it to flare, something which the parents only felt as a shiver down their spines. "I also thought maybe you might want to be able to do magic here as well for a while," Harry continued. "Finite Incantatem," he added, tapping Hermione's head with his wand and restoring her normal hair color.

"I can do magic here?" Hermione almost shrieked - happily this time.

"Well, limited magic," Harry responded, his tone distant, a distracted frown settling on his face. "It won't completely block the Trace, but will mute it somewhat. You won't want to do anything like a patronus out here, for example. Or disapparate either."

"Hermione," her mother said, drawing her daughter's attention away from the glare that was beginning to surface when Harry mentioned two kinds of magic that Hermione could not yet do. "Would you care to explain what's going on here? I thought you couldn't do magic outside of school, not until you're seventeen?"

Meanwhile, Harry's frown was deepening, not that anyone was paying too much attention to it. Both parents were focused on their child, and vice versa. "It's what I just said. Harry... he used a set of runes that represent a shield against detection. I guess that means that I can do magic here, but the Ministry won't be able to detect it."

"This isn't good," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "This needs to be fixed as soon as possible."

"What are you talking about now, Harry?" Hermione said, turning back around to him.

"What needs to be fixed?" Her father asked at the same time, his own stance tense. He didn't like not knowing things, especially things noticeable to a fourteen-year-old boy after being in the room less than ten minutes.

Harry grimaced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone. It's not really BAD, per se. Just not all that great." He paused. "This is actually easier to show, rather than tell. Can we go sit down, and I'll explain?" He gestured at the kitchen table.

Instead of answering, the parents turned and headed to the table, sitting on one side of it, while Harry approached the opposite side of it with Hermione. He made a few gestures with his wand, but no incantation, and two new sets of glasses appeared on the table. Both of those glasses had a long thin chain attached to them. Harry muttered a few words under his breath over each set of glasses, then turned and tapped Hermione's pair as well, muttering the same set of words.

"Oh!" Hermione said, sounding pleased. "Oh?" And then sounded like she was just trying to figure out what he did.

Harry said, "If you could please put these on, er, Doctors Granger?" He smiled and blushed. "I'll need to keep the other ends of the chains in my hand, though. And you must tell me if you start feeling something like a bad headache is coming on. These things are not supposed to be used for long, and different people react badly at different times. I don't think it would make a difference between non-magical people or not, but better safe than sorry."

Once the two adult Granger had put the glasses on, choosing not to correct Harry's title application since it was relatively minor, Harry began explaining. "What you're seeing is the runic structure that has been placed on this house, essentially this house's warding scheme. See the red-and-gold one?" He waited until all three nodded. "That's the anti-detection rune I just put up. But I felt that it went up too easily, so I wanted to take a closer look, and what I'm seeing has me dismayed. You see the grayish-white rune that's all around the anti-detection rune?" Once again, he waited until all three nodded, and took a breath.

"That is one that the Ministry of Magic put up. They put up the same wards on the houses of all Muggleborn wizards and witches, and it acts as a sensor for nearby magic. Right now, it is, at best, semi-active, but that's not that unusual, I don't think. They probably only fully activate them during Christmas and Easter break and Summer hols. Think of the ward sets like... a mobile phone mast, or even just a signal booster for the television aerial. These wards detect the presence of magic and send notice of it to the Ministry. It's how the Ministry knows if someone does illegal underage magic to send them their notice, or to send the Magic Reversal Squads for accidental magic. Because the dispersal of muggleborns is, as far as anyone can tell, completely random, it works as a detection matrix. Of course, there's nothing really wrong with that, but... do you know why I think it's bad, Hermione?"

For once, the most intelligent witch at Hogwarts was stumped. "It sounds like it's completely normal, so, no."

Harry sighed. "It **is** perfectly normal, and that's the problem. There aren't any protective wards." He turned to explain to the parents. "I have enemies in the Wizarding world. Bad ones. They're always after me. And Hermione is well-known as one of my best mates. Hermione would just die if you were hurt, and I would feel just as bad, if not worse, if her or her family got hurt because of me."

"Oh, Harry, you worry too much," Hermione said, after a moment or two.

"No, Hermione, I don't," Harry said, looking over at his school chum, trying to impart just how much he **didn't** worry too much without saying anything. By the paling of her face, she'd figured it out. "Besides, better to worry too much than not enough, right?" Harry replied, turning to look at her. "I don't think you really have a clue how much you mean to me."

Hermione's father cleared his throat, drawing Harry's attention back, even as Hermione's face began to color ever-so-slightly. "So, how do we go about making arrangements to fix this?" His tone was mild, and Harry was able to pick up on his thoughts easily; that if they'd been safe so far, it wasn't really a big deal. Hermione's mother was wondering about how much it would cost as well.

"Well, the best way would be to get Gringotts out here and have them do it, sir," Harry said.

"You can call me 'Dan,' Harry," Hermione's father said.

"And I'm Emma," her mother said.

Harry looked from one parent to the other, and smiled a little queasily, but didn't say anything about that. Instead he went on. "I'll pay for it, in any case," and he went on when both parents began to protest. "I have plenty of money, and it's just sitting there doing nothing but gathering interest. I'd much rather put it to use protecting the people I care for and their families. Please... let me do this. Hell, I'd probably do this for all muggleborns if I could, not just Hermione. Maybe I will, once I fully come into my inheritance."

Hermione grimaced, "You know, Harry, you have something of a 'saving people thing,' don't you?"

Harry's startlement at that particular phrase caused Hermione's eyes to narrow, as she added one more thing she'd be asking him about to the list. His sputtering response only made it more obvious, at least for the few moments before he regained his composure. "Only for people worth saving, Hermione."

Once again, Dan Granger cleared his throat, seeing that his daughter and her friend had once again forgotten where they were. Emma, for her part, thought it was kind of cute. Of course, she was familiar with Harry, at least by name, from Hermione's letters, and a burgeoning relationship like she thought she was seeing made her feel good for her little girl.

Deciding to change the subject to ease the tension slightly, Hermione's father said, "Well, it was good of you to come. I'm afraid that we don't really have much in the house at the moment." Harry was blinking in confusion, clearly not understanding, when he went on. "Hermione can tell you that we normally do our shopping on Sundays."

"Oh!" Harry said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try to impose or anything like that. I can handle food for both of us. Or even all four of us, if you like."

Hermione frowned, looking at Harry suspiciously but not saying anything.

Her father wasn't suspicious, but curious. "Oh really? It doesn't **look** like you're carrying a kitchen on you."

Harry laughed, "Well, I am, actually, but that's not what I meant. I just meant we'd get it from Hogwarts."

Hermione's frown deepened, and now she spoke up, "How are you going to do that? You just said that disapparating from here would be visible through the anti-detection ward."

"There are creatures that can apparate through wards without tripping them, Hermione," Harry said. "House elves, in this case."

Hermione went beyond frowning, her face turning downright disapproving. "You're going to call Dobby here?"

For her part, Emma was curious now, "What's a Dobby? And what are house elves?"

"Dobby works for Hogwarts, and so probably would not hear me from here, though I can never be completely sure when it comes to him," Harry replied evenly.

At this, Hermione's face twitched from disapproving to disgusted, and she glared at Harry. "They're a race of slaves that Wizards use for cleaning, cooking and all the things that we normally do to maintain a house."

Harry let out a tired sigh. This was a conversation he'd had many a time with his best female friend, and it rarely got any easier. It certainly didn't help that her parents' faces were taking on the same disgusted look that their daughter had. "They aren't slaves. They are closer to servants, and they **like** to do that stuff, Hermione. Non-magical society believes they are creatures called 'Brownies.'" At that, Hermione stared. She'd never even thought of that. "Besides... I am kinda disappointed you actually think I would enslave anyone, considering how I grew up."

Harry hadn't really been looking at the Granger parents' faces, and didn't see their faces shift from disgust to frowning concern. Emma looked at Dan, nodded to Harry - specifically, his hand-me-down clothes - and then looked back again, her eyebrows going up. Dan shrugged, and stayed silent. Hermione, for her part, had the grace to look sheepish. "Harry, I know you..."

Harry sat forward and interrupted again, taking Hermione's hands in his own. This time he got raised eyebrows from her father, but, once again, Harry did not notice. "Hermione, there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to protect the house elves. In fact, I love that you're so passionate about it. But there are things that you don't know, things that you're not letting yourself see because your vision is blurred by that passion. Or, even what I might call obsession."

Hermione's mind immediately flashed back to something Harry'd said earlier, that 'the only times I don't trust you is when you let your obsessions get strong enough to block everything else out.' She wondered if this turned out to be one of those times, even though he had also said it usually didn't happen for another couple of years.

"See, the problem isn't the elves," Harry continued. "They enjoy working as they do. It may not have always been that way, but that's the way things are now. As far as I know, the early history of the house elves is apocryphal. I don't think they even recall it anymore."

"So, what is the problem then?" Dan asked. "Because there clearly is one from what you're saying." Both of the parents had schooled their faces back into neutrality.

Harry turned to look back at both parents, but didn't release Hermione's hands. "Bad treatment on the part of their 'masters,' mostly. Dobby, the elf that Hermione mentioned, used to belong to the Malfoys. I don't know for sure, but Hermione may have mentioned their son, Draco, in some of her letters?" When the parents nodded, Harry went on. "They used to beat him and make him feel worthless, and then they would force him to punish himself. It got to the point where he still does do that, even though he's not worked for them for almost two years now. And by punishing himself, I mean things like twisting his ears, beating his head against a wall - or other convenient solid object - or even ironing his fingers. It was bad. In spite of all that, during the summer between our first and second year, Dobby came to where I was living to try and warn me away from Hogwarts, where his master was planning to do something heinously evil."

Now the parents were aghast again, but at least it was for the proper reasons. And it showed. "Dobby works for Hogwarts now, and he's paid and given time off... er, I probably should have mentioned that normal house elves don't get either, which is why that's important. Hogwarts also employs at least a hundred other elves. They cook the food and clean the castle, and they do it well. But the key bit is that they don't get paid and they don't take time off, and they like it. Headmaster Dumbledore would certainly be willing to pay each and every one of them, but I'd bet that not a single one has asked, even since Dobby has arrived."

Hermione inserted, "Dumbledore..."

Harry grinned evilly, "Professor or Headmaster Dumbledore, Hermione." His tone indicated that this one was something of an inside joke, and Hermione flushed bright red for just a moment at the teasing.

"Headmaster Dumbledore should have offered it to them!"

"He may have," Harry replied. "I don't know. But if I know house elves, their reaction would have been to reject it out of hand. Most house elves consider it an insult to take pay."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. "Besides, Hermione, unless you're just going to give up our friendship after I come into my Lordship, you need to get over this."

Hermione blinked and stuttered, "Wh... what do you mean?"

He shook his head, "You saw the list of properties that the Potters own, Hermione. Who do you think manages them, and have since my parents were killed? It's quite possible that I may have as many elves as Hogwarts has when I hit age seventeen." He shook his head, interrupting when Hermione opened her mouth to respond. "And no, I won't be releasing them either."

"But... why not? They should be free!"

Once again, Harry sighed. "I didn't want to say this, but I think you're not getting the point. Hermione, house elves can **die** from being freed like that." And the emphasis placed on the word 'die' indicated - at least to Hermione - that he had probably seen it happen in other 'worlds.'

Hermione blanched again, but Harry wasn't done yet. "You saw Winky, Hermione. Elves are no different from humans when they're alcoholics. If the drinking itself doesn't kill them, then it's possible for them to have an accident while they're sloshed. They can even get depressed enough to kill themselves."

Into the pregnant silence that followed that, Harry went on, "That said, it doesn't take them long to bounce back if they are given a reason to. After I call Winky here in a bit, you can tell me if she looks better than she did the last time you saw her. And that's after only about, what, nine hours?"

Emma asked, "I'm assuming that 'Winky' is the elf you were going to call, and she's a female?"

"Yes, exactly," Harry said, looking back at the parents. "Another Wizard released her from service - a master does that by giving the elf clothes - for what I consider to be completely spurious reasons. She's been suffering since then, beating herself and getting drunk on butterbeer, and I decided that..." And here he turned back to look Hermione in the eye. "... that I didn't want her to suffer anymore. I don't like seeing anyone in pain when I can do something about it." He looked back at the parents again. "Don't get me wrong. House elves like Winky are dead useful. I won't say that Mister Crouch's mistake in releasing her wasn't one that I was taking full advantage of, but it's mostly because I don't want her to be in pain anymore."

Turning back to Hermione, he squeezed her hands (which he'd still not let go of) and went on. "There's more, of course. I said before that I love your passion about this, but you're approaching this from the wrong perspective. You need to stop trying to change the elves, who are, as a whole, pretty much happy, and try and change the masters. Work on getting laws passed on proper treatment. And another thing - why just the elves? What about all of the other sentient magical creatures in our world? The goblins? They may manage our bank, but they get very little actual respect and even less equality. Unless you actually think that what Binns..."

"Professor Binns, Harry," Hermione interrupted, looking smug at getting the chance to get back at Harry for his Dumbledore comment earlier.

Harry's expression was caught halfway between annoyance and amusement, but he just continued. "... is teaching nothing but history from the perspective of the victor? What about the dwarves? Do you really think they liked playing in Lockhart's little Cupid thing? How about the centaurs? Or the part-humans like Hagrid and Fleur, who are painted with the same brush? What about the fairies being used as Christmas lights?"

Dan looked over at Emma, his eyes wide. He mouthed to her, "Dwarves? Centaurs? Fairies?" They were familiar with Gringotts goblins, of course.

Hermione frowned, and said, "I never thought about it like that."

Harry nodded. "I know. And the truth is that there isn't much we can do about it as students. We may not be able to do much once we're out of Hogwarts, but we might be able to. We won't know until we try. But the first thing you have to do is stop making those little hats and socks to try and surreptitiously free them."

Hermione said, "But..." And was cut off again.

"You're insulting them, Hermione," Harry said, and watched for a moment as her mouth worked but nothing came out. "Hermione, you don't **own** the elves, so you **can't** release them. All those little hats and socks are doing is making them angry enough to refuse to come into Gryffindor tower at all."

"But... but... the common room is still always clean!" Hermione was grasping at straws, trying to reclaim her position.

"Dobby is doing all of that by himself," Harry responded, then tilted his head thoughtfully. "Though he may have dragged Winky into it too occasionally. He's also the one who's been taking all the hats and socks. And he likes them too, particularly the socks, but that's neither here nor there. The next thing you have to do is find a way to apologize to them. I have some ideas there."

Harry looked back at the parents, and said, slyly, "Actually, I was trying to figure out a way that I could get some of them to attend Master classes with Marco Pierre White, but I'm not sure, even if their magic was up to making them look like humans, that they could act human enough to protect the Statute of Secrecy. So I was thinking that maybe there might be an encyclopedia of cooking or recipes or something like that. They'd enjoy that, I think. What do you think, Hermione? Happen to know a bookstore around here that might have something like that?"

With that, smiles started to spread on all three of the Granger's faces.

---

Author's Notes: I'd like to thank my (new) beta reader (and Brit-picker), Coulsdon Eagle. You can find his work at .org/profile/11198, including his story Hermione Granger and the Goblet of Fire. Go check it out!


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